


just like martha stewart

by goodnightfern



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, M/M, s12 hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:53:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can anyone actually fold a fitted sheet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	just like martha stewart

**Author's Note:**

> this has literally no place on the canon timeline and i don't care

Just the word _bunker_ sounds cozy in his head; bunk beds and bunkbuddies and bunking up and it’s all funky-groovy, hunky-dory, and that last bit doesn’t even make sense. Dean just keeps rolling the word around in his head while he scrubs at the stainless steel. The fridge is spotless, the weird chunk of ice and frozen spinach defrosted from the freezer, and on his laptop there’s a playlist of videos about cleaning grout for when he’s ready to hit the walls.

Sam is supposedly organizing. Organizing something. He’s probably just fucking off somewhere the way he always does when Dean gets the cleaning bug. Oh, Sam will sweep, and even wash dishes if it means he never has to cook but once Dean breaks out the wire scrubbers and cans of Ajax he’s always got somewhere else to be.

Mom - it’s still weird calling her mom, but whatever - is busy cleaning the windows. Apparently she was never too much for housecleaning, but she just rolled her eyes and accepted the Windex without any implication about how Dean is compensating for something. It’s a little weird to taint those gold-tinged childhood memories with dirty dishes and dusty windowsills, but Dean figures he can give Mary a break.

All that means is Dean can blast the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing without any judgement.

Come to think of it, he has no idea what Mary thinks of Patrick Swayze. Maybe she forced John to sit through movie marathons and punched him in the shoulder when John got jealous. Maybe they should have a movie marathon. With plenty of beer, Dean amends, and only one or two offhand comments about how good Swayze looks.

Mary knows about the AIDS crisis. She doesn’t know about her own son’s… orientation. But Mom isn’t Dad, Dean reminds himself, and he scrubs the gunky-ass legs of the stainless steel table extra hard.

Something dripping walks up behind Dean.

It’s a treat to see Cas like this, in a soaked white tank with soap suds on his arms, jean shorts wet and clinging to his thighs. His hair has that drowned rat look Dean secretly loves. Dean could jump his bones right now, honestly, but Mom is just over in the library and he should first find out how the hell Cas got so wet cleaning the bathroom.

“I was cleaning the showers,” Cas clarifies.

“Were the showers on when you did it?”

“I had to keep the water running to…. scrub. And rinse.”

Dean can give a squeegee and a bottle of 409 to Cas, but he still doesn’t really get the whole cleaning thing.

“Well… looks like you did a good job,” Dean tells him. “Gave yourself a good scrubbing too, eh?”

Cas squints down at his bare feet. “The showers, Dean. Not me. So… what next?”

“Why don’t you do laundry?” Laundry is safe enough. You just measure the soap, throw it in, and clean the lint trap. "Make sure you strip the beds, too."

Cas looks insecure, but he nods. "The whole bed?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to fold it all after?"

“We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Dean assures him. "Oh, and don't forget, only the laundry goes in the washer.”

“Oh? I was going to hop right in with it.”

“You oughta stick your head in the dryer,” Dean says, but Cas already has a hand around the back of his neck. Just one soaking-wet kiss to the forehead and then Cas is grabbing all of the kitchen towels for the laundry load.

Mary comes in about three seconds after Cas leaves. She’s out of Windex and her head is craned backwards, towards the hallway Cas just disappeared down. “Is it… okay?” she asks.

“He,” Dean corrects. “And yeah, he’s fine.”

“It’s an angel,” Mary snipes. “I don’t think it has any concept of gender.”

“Well, ask him,” Dean says. Mary purses her lips, and Dean swears he’s up to fucking _here_. “He’s not some alien, Mom. He’s family. And I know. I know it might be weird for you, but this is it. Okay?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Alright, then. The Windex is in the bathroom. Go ask Cas.”

“I think he’s very nice,” Mary says carefully. “He’s… he cares. But it’s just that -”

“Cas is an angel. I know. He knows. Sam knows. But he’s still family.”

“Times sure do change,” Mary says, and walks off down the hall towards the laundry room.

As it turns out, Mary actually knows how to fold a fitted sheet. Cas owes her his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't intending on making Mary homophobic, more something of a different time, ya feel? not to mention she had no idea angels were real, and we all remember how spooky they were when first introduced. 
> 
> And in my bi-Dean headcanon, John never knew.


End file.
